Mother Daughter Discussion
by Simahoyo
Summary: Maura and her mother have survived so many bumps in life. Now that they have declared peace, and Constance is recovering from the hit and run driver, there are other things they need to discuss. Light mention of Rizzisles.
1. Chapter 1

Mother Daughter Discussion

By Simahoyo

(Maura and her mother have survived so many bumps in life. Now that they have declared peace, and Constance is recovering from the hit and run driver, there are other things they need to discuss. Light mention of Rizzisles.)

Constance Isles was not happy to attend this luncheon. Everyone else here was boring, smug, snobbish and from an old Boston family. That was why she had asked Maura to come with her.

She needed someone she could talk to, who was interesting, thoughtful and didn't think the world ended at the Charles River.

Maura's strong arm helped her along, as did the cane on her other side. She wore her injuries with pride. After all the times she had spend in various emergency rooms with her daughter, she was the one being fretted over. She had saved this most precious life, and every time she looked at Maura, her heart swelled with pride. She refused to let the world lose this wonderful human being. People wrote about her art work, but this was her masterpiece.

They negotiated the stairs, and made it to their table. The back patio of one of Beacon Hill's most prestigious homes, was the site of this gathering of women who regarded themselves as guardians of American history. The whole idea made her smile. Maura helped her be seated, and gave her a little kiss on the cheek before sitting down herself. Their _grande bataille_ was now in the past, and peace reigned.

When Constance opened her handbag and got out a notebook and pen, she set it up for a game of hangman. Maura grinned in recognition. This was how her parents had kept her amused in boring meetings.

"Thank you, Mom."

"Actually, I'm the one who will need to play today. And I wanted _someone_ here who was interesting. I'm afraid they will ask me to join something or other." Constance made a series of blanks.

"Next time you should bring Jane." Maura guessed with a letter I.

"Oh, I thought of it, but I knew you didn't have to work today. Besides, we need to spend more time together–with neither of us in the hospital." Constance crossed it out and drew a head.

"I was never so scared in my life. I hope we never have to meet there again, although with Jane's work history..." Maura guessed a letter D.

"Yes, _Il peut se produire à nouveau jamais_." While Constance put the D in one of the blanks.

Both had grown up biligual, and neither paid the least attention to which language they were using at any given moment, unless others were present. Just then, two middle-aged ladies bustled their way to their table. Both dressed in Chanel suits, one black trimmed with white, and other daringly decked out in dark red.

"Yoo, hoo, Constance. There you are. Oh, and your daughter too? Why that is simply lovely.", called out the one in black

"Yes, we so need our young people to take an interest in Boston's history." Said the one in red.

They seated themselves without invitation. Constance felt Maura's gentle pressure on her leg.

She looked up to see the merriment in her daughter's eyes. And the letter O on the game form.

"Yes, well, thank you for inviting us, Eve and Minerva. Have you been introduced to Maura?"

They shook their heads. Constance placed the letter O on one of the lines.

"Maura, these are Eve and Minerva, officers of the Beacon Hill Ladies History Auxiliary. Ladies, this is my daughter, Maura, Head Medical Examiner for the Boston Police."

They exchanged how do you do's, but Constance noticed a flicker of disapproval at the mention of Maura's job title. Very well, game on.

"Well, thank you for inviting us. What was it you wanted to speak to us about?" Maura guessed T. Constance drew a neck on the figure.

"Since you come from such a fine old Boston Family, I thought you might want to join our little group. The only requirement, is, of course, to have an ancestor in Boston before 1700."

Constance smothered a laugh. Maura guessed the letter N. Constance drew an arm.

"Oh, I hardly qualify. I'm Canadian by birth, and I was raised in Quebec most of my life."

Their faces dropped simultaneously. The one in red turned to Maura, picking up her smile.

"But you would qualify, dear, on your father's side, wouldn't you." Maura guessed M. Constance filled in the space.

"Actually, no. My great-grandfather was the first Isles in Boston. He's the one who started our first radio station and newspaper."

"Oh dear. But before?" Maura was deep in thought.

"He came from Virginia. The Great Depression had not helped matters, even for the fine, old families."

"Fine, Old families?" Maura wrote down a final E, and smiled triumphantly.

"The Isles are FFV. So, I'm afraid neither of us qualify, but I'm happy to donate."

Constance was prouder than ever. Maura excelled at the snob game.

Once they made their escape, Constance felt that it was time to show Maura everything Patrick had given to her for safekeeping. He was dead, and she was able to almost fully function again.

"Maura, I have some important papers for you at home. Would you please stay?"

"Of course. More insurance forms?"

"No, they are personal. _Très, très personnelle_."

Maura's jaw set, and she was quiet the whole way home. Sometimes, her sixth sense was breathtaking. She knew what it was.

When they were back in the house, and Constance was settled into her comfortable chair, Maura

just stood there, expectantly.

"In the attic. I saved some of your old clothes. You can change into them. Look in your old room, the bottom drawer of the dresser."

Constance heard Maura moving around then a laugh from the other room. "You saved these? Did you want the world to know about my terrible taste in music back then?"

It wasn't long before her daughter re-emerged in skin tight jeans and a Nickelback t shirt, with sneakers on her feet.

Constance laughed too. "That brings back memories."

"I'm afraid to bend over. Where in the attic?"

"You know that big trunk in the corner. Inside are two boxes. One with your name on it and the other labeled Hope. Please bring them down."

Maura involuntarily gasped, then rushed up the stairs. Constance could hear her moving around above her. Her heart was racing, hoping she would be able to explain everything without hurting

Maura even more.

It wasn't long before Maura returned, carrying two corrugated boxes. She stopped in front of Constance.

"Here."

"Yes. Open the one with your name, and bring the book on top, please."

Maura obeyed eagerly. Constance motioned for Maura to take a seat on the arm of the chair, as they opened the scrapbook. The first picture was of Constance holding the baby Maura for the first time. She reached over and stroked her daughter's arm.

"It's the first time I ever met you. You were so tiny. And so perfect."

"I love the look on your face. Do you think I'll look like that the first time I hold my own child?"

"I'm sure you will. Have you discussed this with Jane?"

"Yes. We haven't gotten to details, but we both want children."

"I must prepare you for the next photo. Your father_ Est_ _devenu votre esclave consacré_."

Constance turned the page and Maura burst into laughter. Her Dad was grinning from ear to ear and looking deep into her eyes. Devoted slave was the right term. She had fit into one of his huge hands.

They continued to look at the pictures as Maura grew up. One showed Maura with a bandage on her collarbone, and a frown on her face. Her arms were crossed.

"Ah, your first accident. How did a six year old get her hands on a skateboard?"

"I bribed one of the cook's children to let me play with it. He was terrified that he would get into trouble when I fell, so I covered for him."

Constance smiled up at her daughter. "I should have known. You always were creative in your mischief."

They continued with the scrapbook until age 10, when it ended, and was replaced by official school pictures and yearbooks. Constance knew Maura didn't have the patience to wade through those. So she handed them all to Maura.

"These are yours now."

Unexpectedly, Maura shook her head. "No, not as long as you and Dad are alive to enjoy the memories. I know where they are, and I can come over and see them. Okay?"

"Done. Now, please open the next box."

Maura's hand were trembling. Constance held her breath.

The box was open and Maura reached inside. There was a photo of a very pregnant woman who resembled her. She stopped breathing for a second, then teared up.

"My mother?"

"Yes."

Maura was actually on her knees in front of her mother.

"Who is she? Please tell me about her."

"I was not able to speak to you about this until Patrick died. I had promised both of them to keep their secret. I knew it hurt you not to know. It hurt me not to be able to explain things to you. But now, you shall have the _Toute l'histoire_. Your mother's name was Hope Riell."

"But wasn't Riell your maiden name?"

"Yes, dear. By blood, I'm your aunt. Hope was my younger sister. She was gentle and kind, but a bit wild. It was impossible to keep a rein on her. When she met Patrick, he was not yet, 'connected', as they say. They fell deeply in love. I had hoped that he would choose a better life, but he didn't. As a result, Hope left him, even though she was pregnant with you."

"But my father knew all about me. He had pictures of me in ballet recital and ..."

"He refused to let her go. They made arrangements for your father and me to keep you when you were born. Patrick feared his enemies might find you and hurt you."

"I need to see more. I've waited so long." Maura dug into the box.

"My original birth certificate. I have wanted to see this practically my entire life." Maura stared at the document. "Who named me Maura?"

"Your parents did–Patrick and Hope. We had to honor their choice, and we loved the name."

Maura opened the scrapbook dedicated to Hope. She sat at her mother's feet, turning the pages quietly. Constance knew she was crying. She handed her daughter a tissue.

"Merci. How do you always know..."

"I just do. Oh, there's a picture of Hope with me when we were children."

Maura looked up at her mother's face, comparing. "I see the resemblance now. No wonder everyone says I look like you. Now I can just say, 'Thank you.'"

Maura turned another page, and there were her grandparents. "I'm sorry I never got to meet them. How old were you when they died?"

"Barely twenty-one. I had to raise Hope was well as take care of myself. She was just sixteen."

Maura looked up at her mother sympathetically. "I never knew that. It must have been hard."

"It was. I didn't meet your father until almost two years later. He swept me off my feet."

"He does that. I'm so glad you two met. Frankly, I think I might have been too much for the average parents."

"You were definitely a challenge. Too bright, too adventurous, and the love of our lives. "

"Oh Momma. You'll make me cry again."

Constance patted her daughter's shoulder, tears in her own eyes. Maura had gone from an angry, Mother", to "Mom" and now to "Momma". Her throat was tightened, and she feared the tears to come.

Maura was nearing the end of the scrapbook. Constance could see she was on the remaining two pages. She put her hand on the open page, and stopped Maura.

"Honey, the next page is hard for me, and it will be hard for you. There is a reason you never met your mother. She died shortly after you were born."

Maura didn't look up. Her voice was tiny, and hard to hear. "I knew that. No one had to tell me, I just knew."

Constance moved her hand, and Maura turned the page. The casket was closed, and covered with flowers. Maura closed the book.

"How did she die?"

"She was killed by Patrick's enemies. It's why we moved to Rhode Island the first few years of your life. It was safer if they didn't know about you."

"I have so much to apologize for. I thought you didn't want me. You were hiding me, weren't you?"

"Yes. Your reactions were understandable. Besides, you and I both have terrible tempers, which was no help to the situation. We had some amazing rows."

"Dad said he had a headache for the first ten years of my life. He does like to exaggerate."

"Actually, I rather enjoyed a few of those. You had no trouble holding your own. We just were two people completely convinced that we were in the right."

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"Being my mother. Saving my life–several times, being patient with me. Accepting Jane."

Constance was weeping openly now. Maura handed her a tissue.


	2. Chapter 2

Mother Daughter Discussion

Chapter 2, Daddy's Girl

By Simahoyo

Maura's "Everything in my life suddenly makes sense" moment was interrupted by the door opening and the sound of familiar footsteps.

"DAD", she thought, and ran for the door.

Her father stood there, suitcase in hand, as she attacked him from the side in a hug.

"Whoa, Einstien. How's my girl?" He returned the hug then pushed her away to get a look at her garb. "That's a blast from the past. How's your Mom/"

"She's getting better. The hip replacement will take some getting used to, but she's a trooper."

Maura grabbed his suitcase and took it into her parent's room, as her father went to greet her mother. Then she rejoined them.

Constance was leaning into her father, with a dreamy look on her face. Maura knew they hated these business trips, but having once found one of her Dad's mushy love notes in the freezer, before her mother did, she knew part of their ritual was for him to hide the notes in the strangest places for Constance to find.

"So, " He pretended to look around, "No fires, no smoke, no blue in the air...I guess you got along while I was gone."

Their, "Ha, ha." was simultaneous.

"So what's all this?", and he looked at the boxes and books on the floor.

"Mom was explaining everything about my birth mother, and showing me pictures. I especially loved the one of you holding me the first time." Maura picked up his hand and looked at it.

"I can't believe I was ever that tiny."

He inspected his own hand, uncharacteristically quiet. "Neither can I."

"I just wish there were more of me after I went off to boarding school."

"There are. Wait just a minute." He rushed away.

Maura could hear thumping, and rustling, then the sound of his office chair. He had doffed his jacket and tie, and had a big scrap book under one arm, and was dragging his office chair behind him. Maura looked at her mother, who winked. Her Dad never did anything halfway.

He arranged the office chair to the right of Constance's chair. He sat in the office chair, and patted the arm of her mother's chair, so that Maura was between her parents. When she was settled, he opened the scrapbook.

Maura started to laugh. "Oh my God, that tire is bigger than I was."

"I call this, 'Maura Isles, the grease monkey years.' You couldn't reach most of the tools, so I had a shelf built for you, and you started out with changing tires...with help."

"And I wound up re-building engines. I'm still a bit of a car nut."

The next page showed Maura's legs sticking out from under a Maserati.

"How old was she there? It's a bit hard to tell.", asked Constance.

"I think fourteen. We will draw a veil over what happened to that particular car later on that year."

Maura felt her face grow hot.

Constance drew her close. "It's alright. You survived. That's what's important."

Maura hugged her back. As the next page was turned all three tensed. Maura because of an escapade her mother knew nothing about. Her dad because he knew what Constance would have to say about it. Constance because it showed a teenaged, shorts and tight t shirt clad Maura sitting on a car in a very provocative pose.

"What is this?" The tone was commanding.

"I, umm, I talked him into it. I wanted to go to the car show, and I was getting boy crazy, so..."

"Honestly, the two of you are like Stan Laurel", pointing to Maura, "And Oliver Hardy." pointing to her husband.

"That's another fine mess you got us into, Maura."

"Maybe I'd better take this home and look at it."

"The rest of the photos are Ok, I promise Connie. I just need to take this."

He reached into the book and pulled out a page of notebook paper, trying to hide it. Maura took it, looking at her father's red face.

It was a list labeled, "Sharks to watch out for."

"What is this?"

Her father tried to look innocent. Maura gave him a sharp look as her mind wandered back to her early dating years. Sharks...sharks...Daddy code for boyfriends he didn't trust. She examined the list. It was long. She agreed with some of the choices. Actually several of them.

But the urge to tease took her over.

"Daddy. This is every boy I ever dated. Didn't you like any of them?"

"No. Why do you think we sent you to an all-girls school.?"

"That was your idea, dear."

"Thanks for the support, Connie."

"You did get a bit over-protective. But we had more reasons than the average family to be protective. Did you know that Maura thought we didn't want her, because we were always sending her away?"

Tears filled her dad's eyes. "Oh no. That couldn't further than the truth. We were hiding you from those damned mobsters. You know that now, don't you?"

Maura's throat muscles tensed.

"Yes. I do understand. Now. I wish I had known more before, but you couldn't tell me. Is that right?"

"Right. I actually was happy you went to work for the police. Extra protection. And Detective Rizzoli. I feel good about her being with you so much."

Maura's stomach rumbled. "Hmmm, dinner time, maybe?"

"Servants' night off. We can order in.", offered Constance.

"I'd be happy to cook for you. Is your pantry as well-stocked as I remember?"

"Always. Oh, and would you please invite Jane. Your father hasn't met her yet."

"Gladly. I'll make what Jane calls a, 'Back of fridge' dinner. It should be fun. But no adding her to your Sharks list, Dad."


	3. Chapter 3

Mother Daughter Discussion

Chapter 3, Meeting Jane

By Simahoyo

The knock at the door was confident. Maura's father assumed it was Jane Rizzoli. From his daughter's description and stories, she sounded like an Italian-American Amelia Earhart, with self-defense skills. He got up and opened the door. There stood a tall, raven haired beauty who would have looked at home on a magazine cover–one of those things Maura used to leave scattered around the house in her sloppy years.

"You must be Jane. I'm Maura's dad." He opened the door wide. "Come on in. It's good to finally meet you."

When Jane stepped inside, he saw how young and unsure she looked. His heart went out to her. Anyone who loved his daughter was someone special, he decided. He grinned at her, motioning for her to follow.

"Maura's in the kitchen rustling up some dinner. Constance is in the sitting room. I promised Maura not to give you the third degree."

He could see Jane relax. They went to Connie's chair. Connie smiled her welcome, and Jane reached down and hugged her.

"How are you dear?"

"Good. And you? I heard you made it to your luncheon, and down some stairs. When I was shot, that was the hardest part of recovery for me."

"Please sit down. I'd like to get to know you a little."

Jane sat on the sofa. He had heard about Jane's aversion to dresses, so he smiled when he noticed the jeans clinging to her long legs ending in loafers on her feet. and the turtleneck she wore unadorned. No fuss about Jane Rizzoli.

He had cleaned the mess left by their earlier trips down memory lane, but now he wished he could show her Maura trying to change the tire at age seven.

"Has Maura ever gotten you involved in one of her, 'messes'?"

Jane's face went mobile. "Frequently. Did she tell you about Giovanni? I didn't think so."

Jane was a good, and animated storyteller, bringing the, " brain dead" mechanic to life, and reacting to each new present with dramatic pauses, and flourishes. When she got to the desperate play to pretend to be lovers, the laughter brought Maura into the living room–her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What are you telling them, Jane Rizzoli?"

"All about Giovanni."

"Oh thanks. Do you want me to share your escapades. Do the words, 'Sippy cup smuggled out of your house in my purse.' ring any bells?"

Jane was suddenly the very model of a perfect gentlewoman. But her eyes danced with mischief.

"Would you feel safer with me in the kitchen with you?"

Maura waited. He knew her strategies well. Her arms were folded. She would wait just long enough, then...

"Yes, you can come in the kitchen with me. But you have to behave."

"Excuse me." And Jane stood, following Maura pseudo-meekly.

He and Connie looked at each other–shocked into silence.

"Oh my God..."he started.

"They're us.", she ended.

The end


End file.
